Week 4: The Agility Course
Let's talk about finding your rhythm. Not discipline in the boot-camp sense, but more like learning the beat that keeps you moving when life gets loud.
This week, I made a commitment to something radical: intentional experimentation. I'm always doing something, but now I'm paying attention to what actually works. I'm building a rhythm that works for now—testing what works for me when I get my next paid gig. Keyword: agile. Because when life throws a curveball (or a toddler), I want to bend like a willow, not snap like a twig.
Ready to Serve by 10
My mornings have become sacred choreography. Exercise, yes—a half-hour in my home gym (i.e. the basement). But also reading, learning, journaling, reflecting… showering. The whole ritual builds toward one goal: being ready to serve others by 10am.
This isn't about becoming a morning person or optimizing productivity. It's about testing what it takes for me to show up fully. When someone needs help, when an opportunity appears, when life asks me to contribute—I want to be present, not scrambling to catch up with my own day.
If I skip parts of the routine, my brain becomes the world's most convincing defense attorney: "Your Honor, we submit that today's circumstances are exceptional. Surely we can answer emails in our pajamas just this once!"
Objection. The point isn't perfection—it's learning what I actually need to feel resourced enough to be useful to others. When work comes back into the picture, I need to know: what's my minimum viable morning that leaves me with something to give?
Why does this matter? Because my weight/muscle/fat ratio is... let's just say "creatively distributed," and my brain needs movement to function. But more than that, I'm discovering that my sense of purpose comes from being available—not just physically present, but mentally and emotionally prepared to contribute.
Fasting—but Make It Purposeful
This week I experimented with a liquid fast. No chewing. Just smoothies, soup, and the occasional existential crisis about texture. And something surprising happened: I didn't cheat.
When I've done challenges for myself in the past, I've been known to interpret rules with the flexibility of a yoga instructor. But this time I fasted in solidarity—thinking about people around the world who go hungry not by choice—and suddenly the conviction was ironclad. No shortcuts, no rationalizations.
I plan to keep this going, maybe one day a week. Not as a diet thing, but as a mindfulness practice. A reset button for both body and perspective. A reminder that hunger is a teacher, not just an inconvenience (I should probably keep it at just water, but baby steps!).
Journaling Experiments and AI Shenanigans
I've been journaling more throughout the week using Notion AI. The goal: remember what I actually did during the week instead of sitting down to blog and staring into the void like, "What even was Tuesday??”, also trying to learn new platforms.
It's working... sort of. I'm still trying to teach the AI to write like me—thoughtful, slightly ridiculous, and prone to spiritual metaphors that may or may not land. Notion AI hasn't quite mastered my particular brand of existential optimism, but I'm learning how to coach it. Also learning that these tools can get pricey faster than a toddler can redecorate your living room with yogurt.
If I switch platforms, you'll be the first to know. In the meantime, my inner tech nerd is thoroughly entertained by the process of teaching a computer to sound human while trying to stay human myself.
Nimbleness: A Whole Life Skill
Midweek brought the joy (and logistical adventure) of caring for a very adorable 18-month-old. You know what toddlers excel at? Restructuring your entire reality in under ten minutes while maintaining perfect eye contact and zero guilt.
Suddenly I was rearranging furniture, borrowing gear from friends, and cleaning Cheerios from the rug. Then, just like that—tiny tornado departed, leaving a very confused dog.
Moments like these remind me why staying nimble matters more than staying planned. You can strategize all you want (and I do), but sometimes life hands you a tiny human with sticky fingers and an agenda, then says, "Pop quiz! Let's see what you've learned about adaptability."
Mental flexibility is just like physical fitness—if you don't stretch regularly, you get stiff. And life doesn't care about your current flexibility level; it will ask you to lift something heavy, bend in unexpected directions, and smile while doing it.
SOPs... Because I'm Still Me
Amid all this beautiful chaos, I still found time to work on Standard Operating Procedures for our civic association. (My former colleagues are probably chuckling—yes, I'm still that person who thinks knowledge management is a love language.)
But I stand by it: good systems are a gift to future-you and to whoever inherits your organized chaos. Why spend an hour playing detective with old emails when you could spend five minutes following a clean, beautiful process? It's like leaving breadcrumbs for your future self, except the breadcrumbs are color-coded spreadsheets and everyone wins.
Call it virtuous administration. Call it enlightened procrastination. I call it common sense wrapped in good intentions.
The Week in Review
That's the week: rhythm-finding with grace, smoothies with purpose, surprise toddlers with sticky wisdom, and the ongoing quest to make bureaucracy beautiful. Just the way I like it—intentional enough to learn from, flexible enough to dance when life changes the music.
I'm not building discipline; I'm building knowledge. What do I actually need to thrive? What can I let slide? When the world asks me to show up again—professionally, financially, fully—I want to know my non-negotiables. I want to know my rhythm so well that I can find it again in any tempo life decides to play.
Last note (pun intended).. I’ve convinced my family to learn the same song on piano and guitar to jam together, something that has never happened. We’ll see how it goes!